


Ride: Chapter Thirteen

by pinto_round_robin



Series: Ride [12]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Road Trips, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinto_round_robin/pseuds/pinto_round_robin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has to face Zach the next morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride: Chapter Thirteen

Chris awoke to the feeling of a receding nightmare.

He squinted at the sunlight cast on the opposite wall and tried to place the sense of failure in his chest. As the seconds ticked past, the whole fucking mess of yesterday filtered through: deleting Zach’s texts, his admission of jealousy and Zach’s incandescent anger. The horror of it left Chris groaning up at the ceiling.

The watery-pale green sheets stuck to Chris’s legs as he forced himself out of bed. He turned over his phone, telling himself he was checking for the time even as his eyes scanned for an unread message. Chris scoffed and tried to find a clean shirt. He debated with himself before slipping on his sunglasses, more for a buffer more than for camouflage, and heading to the elevator.

When he got off, Zach was already in the lobby. Chris’s gut dropped at the sight of him. He knew their talking was inevitable, but it felt too early and he felt too ill prepared. Zach now sat in the stucco-walled lobby with his head bent over, tapping out a text. Chris could hazard a guess that the no-phone rule was no longer in effect.

“Hey,” he cleared his throat. What little food he’d consumed last night churned when Zach finally met his eyes. Chris didn’t even attempt a smile.

“Hey.” Zach replied, looking up from his phone. Chris recognized the look in Zach’s eyes. It was the same feigned calm Zach gave when they were told another reporter had just shown up an hour before they were supposed to finish.

Chris’s eyes shifted to Zach’s two bags that were already packed beside him on the floor. Years of friendship reduced to the discomfort of strangers, all because of two swipes on an iPhone screen. The trip was devolving into a disaster all because of Chris’s inability to handle losing his nonexistent chance with Zach. Chris suddenly felt angry – with himself and with Zach in equal measures.

“So, what’s the plan?” Chris crossed his arms, practically vibrating with irritation that was more convenient than accepting his fear over his fuck up. “Are you going back to New York?”

Zach set down the phone, “Miles and I talked about it.” He pinned Chris with a challenging stare. If he noticed Chris flinch at Miles’s name, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I don’t know.”

“Are you guys back together, then? Is that it?”

Zach clasped his hands together and pressed his fists to his mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment, surrounded by clean, uncomfortable chairs and conservative TV news chatter. “We’re not doing this right now,” Zach stared up at him, condescension written over every feature.

“Fine by me.” Chris shrugged and watched Zach’s reaction. He gave none. They checked out without looking at one another, even as Chris felt close to exploding with the need for answers.

They drove the remaining 4 and some change hours through New Mexico without slowing, stopping solely for gas. Half of Chris didn’t have the heart to appreciate the scenery. The other half drove past towns out of childish, spiteful impulse. The sun sparkled off the hood of his car and into his eyes.

Chris’s mind spun out into the flat landscape. Memories resurfaced of his 29th birthday when Zach’s lips had grazed his forehead, of late night texts, of the texture of Zach’s palm against his in the middle of the desert. He also imagined all Miles’s smiles, his twisted hurt when Zach didn’t reply. Chris tried not to look every time Zach pulled out his phone without much success.

He rehearsed every possible way of apologizing, confessing to Zach until the words lost their meaning. Their avoidance of one another was exhausting. All Chris had wanted from this trip was to get Zach out of his head. Now he wanted to bash it against the steering wheel.

Just outside of Amarillo, Chris began to see faded directional signs for the Cadillac Ranch. He yelled over the wind to Zach if he minded stopping. Chris received noncommittal reply, to which he tried not to feel a renewed twinge of hurt. Up ahead, the cars came into view on the horizon.

Ten once-functioning, half-sunk Cadillacs silhouetted black against the massive skyline. It wasn’t until they came closer that Chris could begin to make out the generous layers of graffiti. They were like giant’s slanted fingers, piercing up from the red earth into the open air. It was standing in front of the macabre sight that Zach broke his silence.

“I think my dad mentioned this place once,” he said into the hot air. “I don’t remember him being huge into cars, but then again, I don’t remember much.”

Chris wanted to reach over and touch Zach in lieu of words. Resisting the desire to entwine their fingers overwhelmed Chris like denying a hard-to-shake-habit. Zach was going back to Miles. Chris kept his distance. 

Later that night in Amarillo, they checked into separate rooms at the first hotel they happened upon. Chris didn’t ask what Zach’s plans were and Zach didn’t provide any. After an unsuccessful hour of reading, Chris reached for his pack of cigarettes and figured he’d earned another smoke. He rounded the back of the building towards the now-empty pool, the submersed lights casting an unnatural glow on the parking lot. Chris pulled out his lighter but paused when a voice drifted around the corner. From the one-sidedness of the conversation, Chris knew someone was on the phone. He could place that voice anywhere.

Zach came into view without having noticed Chris. He was wearing jean cut-offs, a baseball cap and sandals, a cigarette dangling in his right hand. The call seemed to be coming to a close judging by the impatience in Zach’s expression. Chris considered bolting, but he held his ground. Only when Zach hung up did he register that he wasn’t alone.

“Were you listening to my phone call?” he immediately narrowed his eyes as he approached Chris.

“I just wanted a fucking cigarette,” Chris waved said object in front of him. “I’m not spying on you, dude. Relax.” 

Zach seemed to wilt a little at that. He pulled up a chair and set his phone on the frosted glass of an umbrella-punctured table. “Did you hear anything?”

“No, not really.” Chris remained standing. He wore a pair of blue and green swimming trunks, sunglasses dragging down the neck of his shirt to expose an exaggerate v of his Kirk-shaved chest.

“Not much of a conversation anyways,” Zach took a drag, “Mostly Miles looking up flights and me repeating myself that I wasn’t ready.”

“Wait, are you…” Chris fought between warring emotions, his irrational hope and his more rational dread for his sanity’s sake. “Are you trying to tell me that you want to finish the road trip?”

“It would appear that way. I love him, I just need more time to think.” Zach’s eyes flickered over Chris.

Dozens of questions and apologies alike swirled through Chris. Instead, he rubbed the stubble covering his cheeks and asked, “Do things ever feel weird to you? Between us?” Before Zach could answer he went on, “I used to clean my house and shit for you. I used to care _so much_ about what you thought of me. I wanted you to like me, even after years of being friends. You freaked me out, man,” Chris gave a dry chuckle, “And now it’s like…”

Zach had turned so that his whole body was facing the other man. His expression didn’t give much away, save for the intensity of his concentration.

“What’s it like, Chris?” Zach waited. If he sounded hopeful, it was most likely Chris’s overactive imagination.

Chris took another drag before replying.


End file.
